5 Things to Demand When Trapped in a Mine

October 14, 2010

1. a 2-4 of Vitamin Water. Lemonade steez. That shit is healthy and zesty as a lemon soaked in spoo(censored). Plus, I do enjoy those witty write-ups on the label.

2. My Superbowl edish La-Z-boy, son. When you’re stuck in some dank cave for weeks on end, man’s GOTTA kick his feet back and relax. Aint never gonna be another time when no one expects shit from you.

3. Snuggie, doodles and doodlettes. Nothing says stuck in a hole with nothing to live for better than a blanket with MAD sleeves. Plus, you’ll look like a hella cool monk.

4. iPod Nano- Silver. Cuz even when the air is stale, your beats will be fresh. Think about this, you’re struggling to get your breathe on, but you ask your cave-bro if he’s heard that sick new Kanye track. Chances are he hasn’t and now you’re the COOL fucking hipster mine guy.

5. A journal to log each day’s struggles and challenges. And also to wipe your butt with.


Five Ways To Smuggle Drugs At The Airport

September 20, 2010

I don’t need to tell you, the faithful, how big of a deal Talvid is anymore. By now you’ve read about me in the news, the tabbies, and Tal and David’s Blog of Shit. And because I’m such a big deal (you should know this), I travel a lot. And by travel, I don’t mean walking, taking the train or other lame shit; I mean flying first class on Private Concords. We’re talking Lear Jet shit, guy.

But the one thing I can’t avoid, just like you guys, is getting hassled by the motherfuggin man. I’m talking airport security. They’re always getting into my b’ggage and saying “you can’t bring this, you can’t bring that”. Totes annoy-noy, right?

Because this blog isn’t just about me-me-me, I’ma go ahead and drop a sick knowledge bomb on your ass.
Without further uh-dew, here’s 5 ways to smuggle illegal narcotics past airport security.

1. Marijuana– The good thing here is, even if you’re caught, this one’s only a mister meaner. Jailtime will be minimal – espesh in Thailand. So if you absolutely must have some skunky wunky on the plane, hide that shit in a gun. The feds will never think to look inside a gun for no weed.
2. Cocaine– Obviously, you know the one about filling a balloon with cocaine and stuffing it in your bumhole. Now that’s reliable, but it’s anything but fresh. So for maximum freshness, use a Ziploc sandwich bag. But don’t be a dummy and label it, “Cocaine”. “Booger Sugar” will do just fine.
3. Mushrooms– Easy. Now this one actually involves you getting caught. Be straight up with it. Tell security that, “yes, these are, in fact, psilocybin mushrooms, but I’m mas allergic to them”. Think about it. Why would someone who’s allergic to something want to eat them? That’s just silly.
4. LSD– Whether you have one tab, or 60, the best place to hide acid is directly under your tongue.
5. Heroin– While I don’t condone the use of this one (I don’t condom it either -lol), this method of hiding it is rather fail-proof. All you need is a plastic hypodermic needsy weedsy, a leather belt, and Morrison Hotel on your iPod. Yeah guy, you’re hiding it in your veins. If anyone knows how to get it out once you’ve landed, please share.

Today I Was the Common Man

September 8, 2010

Aka, Talvid

Aka, Talvid

I guess it’s the first day of school today. More of an assumption really, given that yesterday was Labour Day and today is the first day of school. Day.

Walking down the street, as I’m loath to do, en route to my powerful job in the CBD of the world’s best city, I took sight of car after car ferrying children to their first day of college life. You see, today, my Lincoln Continental hatchback was in the shop and my driver had come down with a case of the I-fired-him, so transit was my only opsh.

I suppose it’s really not that big a deal to myself, but to the average citizen, the mere pedestrian, catching a glimpse of me in person is no less wetness-inducing than the second coming of Jesus Harold Christ. “Talvid is among us!”, “he’s far more beautiful in person, let’s all orgy him!”, I could hear them shouting. Look, I get it. I’m one handsome notch above George Clooney and Brad Pitt combined, I have a rip-roaring blog, and my scent is like that of your own fart; I smell good to you. Doesn’t mean the attention doesn’t make me uncomfortable. In other words, the attention makes me comfortable. Actually, I’m not really sure. That was a triple negative and I don’t know how to fix it.

Speaking of which: to all the women who posted in the Missed Connections section on Craigslist saying shit like “we made eyes at each other on the bus”, or “you look like the kinda man who makes other men look like women”, or, “I lost my cat, have you seen it (pretty sure that’s a euphomology for, “my lady cat is lonely, please pleasure it”), I’ll call you.

So that brings me to the point of this essay: Is this what being in public is like for all you guys out there? I mean, obviously I don’t think so, but it’s nice to pretend like you value the opinion of others.

5 Steps To The Ideal Labour Day Weekend

September 1, 2010
Tom Cochrane

Tom Cochrane

This upcoming weekend, we celebrate the May 2-4 Labour Day weekend. Everyone’s always asking Talvid, “hey mun, how do you do it up big on a long weekend?”. Naturally I just do a Steve Austin style point-at-my-crotch and keep walking. But because you didn’t ask, I’m a tell you how to bro out big-time come LD (Labour Day, not Long Dick- you dog, you).

1. Get a 2-4 of Smirnoff Ice. {Smacks you in the pecker}. Bro, if you actually just went out and bought that; stop reading, you’re not worthy of my advice. A 2-4 of Molson Wildcat will do just fine.
2. Get the entire Rush Box Set. Only play YYZ, the rest is pretty shit.
3. Repeat step #2.
4. Go to the Hooters in Barrie. For Barrie, it’s a classy joint. If I had to compare it to something in Toronto, I’d compare it to Hooters.
5. One word: Wasaga Beach. Wasaga Beach is where you go if you want the first 4 steps wrapped in one sandy, whale-tailed, STD-ridden pig in a blanket.

And hey, if these steps didn’t work out and your weekend was a big old waste, blame yourself. It’s your fault you’re not Talvid.

Drunk At A Wedding

August 19, 2010

Talvid’s old roommate Dennis went to a wedding recently, got trashed, and behaved inappropriately. Someone was taking notes:

Bev: Offended by you asking a homeless black man where his crack
pipe was. Joann insists you grabbed her boobs and said “Wanna make
out?” but Joann says she doesn’t remember this.

Catherine: Stepped on her foot, leaving an inch-long bruise, not sure if
this was by accident or not because she said it was pretty hard. Asked
her if Dean was her boyfriend, then asked if she wanted to make out,
then handed her your business card and she handed it back to you.

Samantha: I apparently introduced you to her and she merely said “no” and
walked away.

Joe: Somehow ended up on the phone with you in our room and you
called him a faggot. Once you arrived at his room, took off your shoes
and when you left tried to put on his shoes. Also, planted yourself in
the middle of the room sprawled out on a desk chair eating pizza
dripping ranch sauce all over your shirt.

Karis: No memory of you.

Meghan: No memory of you.

Dee: Actively avoided you.

Steph: In our room, pulled up her skirt in the back and said “You like
this don’t you?”

Christine: Tried to do the same thing and this led Steph to call you a
“fucker.” You said “What? Women like stuff like that!” She said “Do
you like getting punched in the balls?” Later commented on your
“general douchiness.”

Brent: The aforementioned skirt lifting led Karis and Steph to leave
our room to ride down to Joe and Mark’s room without you, saying
they didn’t want to be trapped in the elevator with you. This then led
you to ride in the elevator down with Joe. During this, you pulled
Joe aside and said “Look, there’s going to be a room full of bitches
and hoes down there. Don’t ruin this for me.”

Joann: Tried to pull down her wedding dress in the front a couple times.

Thanks for sharing with TADBOS, Dennis. We hope this bit of publicity scores you some well deserved attention from the ladies. And here is an emoticon of a wink 😉

The Guys’ Guide To Eat Pray Love

August 13, 2010

‘Sup, bros. Maybe you’ve seen ads lately for a movie called Eat Pray Love. They’re the ones with some old lady who looks like a Julia Roberts in all the pictures. I know what you’re thinking — “Talvid, two of the words in the title are total boner busters. Why are you wasting time I could be wasting on something else with this shit?”

Because if you want to break into the box, you’ve got to break out of the box. Chicks are all about fluffy kitten crap like praying and loving and movies that show old ladies doing those dumb things. Familiarizing yourself with a movie like this is a surefire way to make girls think that you care about babies and bath salts and emotions. But Talvid’s a bro – he wouldn’t expect you to actually sit through a picture about some wrinkled raisin of a lady eating noodles in Italy and using the Ganges as a mikvah. Instead, Talvid is gonna do you a solid. Here’s everything you need to know about EPL:

(Keep in mind that Talvid hasn’t seen it.)

1. It’s based on a book. So remember to be all like, “The movie was great, but the book was better — have you read the Alchemist? OMG. It was truly like giving my soul a Swedish massage.” Say that, you’ll be getting a massage pretty soon, too. A dick massage.

2. In the movie, the saggy sad sack that looks like Julia Roberts leaves her kinda poofty husband and starts giving it to James Franco, who TMZ never ‘spots’ with a girl (= gay). Then she meets Javier Bardem in Turkey or some other make believe place. Javier Bardem is from Belgium or somewhere like that (= gay). So this movie is about a woman who gives it to a bunch of non-men. Thus it speaks to the female fear of the man with the massive ding dong who knows how to dick dance; the Talvid-type if you will.

3. The “Eat” in the movie refers to the part in the movie where the fat funhouse mirror Julia Roberts goes to Italy and chows the fuck down. The “pray” is when she goes to an assram and gets a spiritual rub off from Buddha. The “love” is when she sticks to Javier Bardem. Clearly, this movie is femme fantasy. Sorta like a Stars Wars of the vagina.

There. That’s all you need to know. Send Talvid a post-coital text.

Cleanse your palate now:

Good Eats: Talvids Reviews ***’s, The Latest In Mexicannex Fare

August 12, 2010

“This is better than any Enchilada you’ll ever get at a restaurant”, said founder and head chef, *** ****. After wolfing down thirds of *******’s staple gastronomical special, I couldn’t help but concur with new it-Chef, *** **** of the Annex’s own, *****.

Located in the 17th floor of a decrepit post-modern chic lofto-raunt, the interior of ***’s is sparsely decorated, making it impossible to focus my brain-buds on anything but the belly timber. And brombre was the BT ever substantial. The main course, a double barrel shotgun of mouth blasting chicken enchiladas, accoutremented by a massive helping of buttered up, day-old brown rice, all stuck to my gut like a mouse, inhumanely trapped and tortured by a Walmart glue trap. That being said, I had no qualms with demanding the head chef to bake me up a third enchi; even if it meant interrupting him in the middle of a sweet True Blood eppy; the one where Sooki shows off her perky tay-tays and makes it with a buxom she-wolf.

The appy, a zesty guacamole, tasted exactly like chunky lemonade with floating bits of onions and tomatoes. However, the President’s Choice blue tortilla chips were actually quite decent; not expiring until early 2011.

After letting the food settle in the refugee camp that is my tumack, one replete with pizza-pop carcasses, and rotting buffalo chicken tenders, the Enchilada meal from *** was a more than welcome addition to the digestive hell that is always one powerful push away from sharting up my skinny cords.

So was it the best enchilada I ever paid for? No. But only because I didn’t pay for it. I give the e-lada meal at *** ‘s a rating of 4/5.

5 Tips On How To Survive A Shark Attack

August 6, 2010

In case you live under a rock, and your rock has a shit cable package, you probably don’t know that right now is The Discovery Channel’s much-hyped Shark Week. Well good thing your rock has wifi. Better thing you’ve bookmarked Talvid’s Blog of Shit. Best thing, after reading this entry you’ll no doubt be a certified shark attack survival expert so long’s you follow these 5 simple steps.

1. Prepare. When most people find themselves confronted by a deadly shark sitch, they’re usually caught off guard and begin to panic. However, I believe it was Newton (gravity inventor and sharkspert) who said, “Broseph, fight a shark on purpose before you fight one by accident”. See, this way you’ll know how to react. So go to your local PJ’s, jump into the shark tank and get your practice on. Those little Macos are no more than 110lbs, so unless you’re a Primo-dwarfer, chances are you’ll fare quite nicely. But beware, little sharks often have the most heart.
2. Reason. Great White the band aside, sharks hate loud noises. If you begin to shout, it’s likely the shark will attempt to quell the shouting by biting your mouth off. Here’s what to do. Shark swims up, you stay calm and you state your gentlemanly intentions. For example: “Hey Shark. Nice to see you here. Just swimming along minding my business. I do hope this open water is large enough for us both. I bid you farewell.”
3. Logic. What are you some kinda idiot? You can’t speak to a shark. It doesn’t speak English, fool. That’s the dolphin, guy.
4. Intimidate. Unfortunately, if you’re a woman, intimidation might be a little difficult. Sharks will respond to shows of masculinity. Specifically- show it your dick*. Have you ever seen a shark wiener? Me neither. The shark will be so emasculated by your wangdang that it will go online and look up tips on how to survive a human attack. *Will not work with an erection. As you know, sharks are attracted to blood.
5. Research. Go to multiple shark attack survival tip sources. This one bites, shark-pun intended, and will totally get you to’ up. They don’t call ‘em sharks for nothing.

4 Ways To Make A Good First Impression At Your New Job

August 5, 2010

From what I understand, the job market isn’t good. Even the amount of jobs BP created to help clean up the sinking of the oil tanker Katrina or whatever the hell happened has barely made a dent in the unemployment rate. Grim news.

Naturally, though, if you’re one of the lucky ones able to land a jobberooski, you’re gonna try your best to keep it.

But how?!

The key is making a good first impression. Studies have shown that 85% of car accidents happen close to home. See? Didn’t I make a good impression on you by dropping that insane knowledge? The workplace is no different. Get off on the right foot, then get off on the left one. Then both your feet are happy and you’ll never get fired again.

Tip #1. Show up late. Managing expectations is one of the keys to workplace effectiveness. Sooner or later you’re gonna get bored at the office. You’ll get to the point where you can do all the shit you need to do in like 3 hours and then just IM or look at teenage Asian girls on Friendster till it’s home time. By showing up late, you’re telling your boss that you don’t play games. You’re not dicking around and making it look like you’re busy and putting in a full workday just because that’s what’s expected and legally required in your contract. No — you’re a professional.

Tip #2. Bring treats for the office. A box of Timmy Ho’s crullers or ramekins of rice pudding or whatever you savages like to stuff in your fat faces. Here’s the rub, though: Don’t share any. Business success is largely about appearances. Bringing enough food for everyone sends the signal that, “Hey, this son of a bitch is loaded!” Not sharing any lets people know that they can’t expect to suckle at your sweet titty all day. If they want something, they’ll have to get it themselves or pay you for it. That’s life. And life is work.

Tip #3. Don’t learn the receptionist’s name. Let’s be blunt: You’re going to say something sexually inappropriate to her at some point. You’ll probably even jam her photocopier, if you know what I mean. (Have sex in her butt in the office while dressed like a pilgrim.) But if you don’t know her name, she can’t play the harassment card. You can only harass people you know, and if you don’t know someone’s name, they’re a stranger. Any child or child predator knows that.

Tip #4. Offer to help someone with their work, then drop the ball. No one will blame the new guy. They’ll chalk up your mistakes to not knowing the ropes. It’s your co-worker that will get reamed. Then, when you DO get stuff done, that will only confirm everyone’s negative thoughts about your idiot co-worker, who suddenly seems sort of expendable. Advantage you.

Why should you trust Talvid? Well, Talvid is so successful he’s never even had to work for, or with, anybody else. So do what Talvid says and pretty soon, by like the end of the first week, you’ll be in a perfect pozzish to ask for a raise.

Open Letter To All The Haters

July 21, 2010

It has come to the attention of Talvid that there are a growing number of you out there sipping the Haterade. Flavour: Sour Grape Peepee.
Let me ask you a question, foe; what specifically is your ish with TADBOS? Is it because you’ve seen a picture of him in a fashion rag getting free of charge suckoffs from models who don’t get out of bed for less than 10 large? Is it because he turned down the nobel peace prize for cocklength (the first and last to be nominated, no doubt). Is it because one time, No Doubt asked Talvid to replace Gwen Stefani right after she became pregnant and less fuckable?
Truth be told, as we like to say, it’s because Talvid is a two part end titty. You wish there was more room for the passé teak likes of your kind. But there isn’t. Look in the mirror, do an Old Spice routine. You are not the man that you want to be. You can read what we write, but you can’t write what we read. If you find this offensive, I suggest you continue reading TADBOS until the blog ceases to exist. That’ll prolls be never. TADBOS, as of last week has been deemed an essential service. But what would you know about that, unessential dee-hole.